


Edification

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Canon-Typical Violence, Identity Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Explicit Sex, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Personal Growth, Polyamory Negotiations, Recovery, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: ed·i·fi·ca·tionˌedəfəˈkāSH(ə)n/noun/formalthe instruction or improvement of a person morally or intellectually.Following Ed’s suicide attempt, Oswald takes him to stay in a cottage by the sea during his recovery. Unbeknownst to Ed, The Riddler remains in Gotham. Oswald navigates his relationships with the most important man in his life. Slowly the three of them must come to an understanding.





	Edification

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [Edification (Vietnamese Translation) – Khai Trí](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316222) by [Nfowleri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nfowleri/pseuds/Nfowleri)



Ed grows tired of himself. Outgrew himself long before he was grown. Limbs stretching out too far, smile too wide. Cumbersome and heavy. The weight of his body pressing down on him. He wants to live in the air, in the mind. Tear out all the extraneous organs and unnecessary emotions. A being made of light and energy. He leaves his body behind. Goes back to his old apartment for the day and tries to breathe. Looks in the mirror. His shadow smiling back.

 

_step aside, let me take over for awhile - you’re so tired don’t you want to rest_

 

He shakes his head to displace him. “You have no power over me. Leave.”  

 

The man in the mirror laughs.

 

_power is a funny thing isn’t it the more you give the more you have i’ll make us stronger_

 

“I’m not letting you out. You hurt people.”  

 

_we hurt people and you love it is as much as i do this isn’t about people at all this is about a bird_

 

“I-I don’t understand what you mean.”  

 

_stop playing dumb you want him and so do i let me out and i’ll take him for you_

 

“He’s not ours to take. He doesn’t love me and he certainly won’t love you.”

 

_he likes me better than you i’ll make him cry for it, make him scream what can you do you couldn’t even satisfy a woman what makes you think you can do it for a ma-_

 

Ed smashes his fist against the glass and the jagged edges stick into his skin. Blood dripping. A fractured, fragmented man steps through the looking glass and into Gotham. Stretches and sighs.

 

The Riddler picks a straight razor up off the sink and carefully cuts a small line in his hand. Blood flows. Smiles. He’s a real boy now. Flesh and blood thirsty.

 

Time to get rid of his former vessel.

 

“Now that’s better. I got tired of living in your head. Such a mess up there. You’re a terrible roommate. I’d like the place to myself.”  

 

He lunges forward and Ed grabbles for the razor and they struggle. His mirror self slams his wrist up against the glass and digs the blade into his neck. Cuts through him. Hot knife to butter. Blood falls and hits the floor. A clean line straight through the jugular.

 

Ed gasps and reaches for his neck.

 

The other laughs and starts to choke. Puts his hand on his own neck and pulls back red. Self inflicted wound. One cannot live without the other. Ed laughs as he watches himself bleed out over the floor, their life draining. Holds himself up against the sink until he slowly collapses to the floor. They bleed all over each other.

 

Dies by his own hand.  

 

* * *

 

 

Oswald finds them like that hours later. Fingers to a single pulse. Hands to twin hearts. He reaches into their chests and forces them back to life. Bloody hands, broken water.

 

“You’re not allowed to die. I’m not done with you.”  

 

He pulls out the phone and makes the call. The ambulance arrives and he sits in the middle.  

 

Their two identical bodies lying on two gurneys. He checks their elbows and finds that old scar in the same place on both of them. A half crescent moon.

 

His hands in theirs. He squeezes and pretends he can feel them squeezing back.  

 

A private medical wing beneath the lounge. No need for public interference or assassination attempts. They put him in two matching beds. Neither of them whole, incapable of functioning without the other. At first, they had them in separate rooms and their hearts nearly crashed. Stick tags under his necks so Oswald can track them and tell them apart. Draw his blood. It comes out green and vanishes into smoke. They are handcuffed to the rails of their beds.

 

Medically induced comas until the doctors can determine the extent of their codependency.

 

They breathe in harmony, heart monitors beeping in sync.

 

Oswald sits in a chair by the foot of their beds and keeps watch. He stays there for hours. Days. The doctors try to remove him. He screams at them. Doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat.

 

He looks at the two men in front of him, his heart divided. He won’t stand for it.

 

Impossible to say which of them belongs to him. Neither. Either. Both. He wants his Ed back.

He’ll take whatever he can get but he’s selfish and he wants it all. The totality and terror of him.

 

The duality of Riddle. He gets up from his seat and walks over to them. Brushes back their hair and kisses their foreheads. “I wish you were here. Come home.”  

 

Their heart monitors stutter and sing. Eyes flicker open. They smile that same smile.  

 

Oswald nearly cries. Nothing near about it in fact he does. Breaks down right there in the middle of them. Caught between a heartache. He should have seen it, should have known he was hurting. He never knows how to save the people he loves most, only ever saves himself.

 

They look at each other and nod in agreement. Pull out their wires and climb off the beds and onto the floor. They hold him in their arms as he cries. Ed whispers to him softly while Ed assures him that he’s safe, they’re safe. They talk over each other.

 

A discordant harmony, a chaotic symphony.  

 

Slowly Oswald breathes again and all he breathes is them. Hope in the air and in the water.

He’s still in there somewhere. Somewhere in these two men is someone he knows.

 

Reaches out and clutches them tightly.

 

He’s never letting go again.

 

* * *

 

Straight line, recovery is not. It zigs and zags. Races and stalls. No telling where it will lead, where it will end. Progress wraps itself around the throat and squeezes you dry. Oswald tries to get him to eat something, anything. Two spoons, two cups of red jello. The doctors have stuck name tags on them. Riddle 1 and Riddle 2. Oswald asks them what names they would prefer.

 

“I am The Riddler.” He insists loudly in unison. They glare at each other “Stop that.”

 

“You stop.”  

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“I asked you second. Identity theft is a crime.”  

 

He laughs at himself. “So is homicide. Suicide. Whatever it was you were trying to do.”  

 

“I don’t want to die but if that’s the only way to kill you, I’ll take it.”  

 

Ed smiles sadly. “I’d welcome death if it meant never seeing you again.”  

 

“We’re in agreement. You die ton-”

 

Oswald smacks them both upside the head. “I am not losing you. Either of you. Shut up and eat your damn jello.” They do. Passive-aggressively. He wasn’t even aware it was possible to eat jello passive aggressively. They find a way.

 

He sighs, head in his hands. “What am I going to do with you?”

 

They smile at him with matching mischief and malicious intent. Delicious descent.

 

The riddle on the right winks at him and sucks jello out of the cup. “Better question: what aren’t you going to do to me- to us? Do onto others, Oswald.”

 

Oswald covers his ears with his hands. “I’m not listening to this. I don’t want you. Not either of you. I just want back what’s mine. Pull yourself together, then we’ll talk.”  

 

The one that’s left on the left takes his hand. “We’ve reached the point of no return. You can’t put me back together again. Not with all of your power, not with all of your men.”  

 

“I refuse to accept that. Just because you’ve given up on yourself doesn’t mean I have to.”

He kisses his hand and they both feel it. “I’ll lead you back home if only you will allow me.”  

 

The right riddle laughs. “There’s no going back and why would we want to? It’s everything we ever wanted and it could be everything you never dreamed off.”  

 

Oswald looks considering. “You promise not to hurt yourself again?”  

 

“Yes.”  

 

“No.”  

 

“He’s lying.”  

 

“I’m lying.”

 

“Here’s what we’re going to do: you get weekends, he gets weekdays.”  

 

“That’s not fair, I deserve more time with you.”  

 

“Alternating Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

 

They sigh and simper. Pester and plead. He refuses to budge. Equal rights or none at all.

They yell over each other. They are never going to work this out, never going to work together. They need to be separated like fighting children and put in corners - Oswald smiles.

 

He has just the right corners to fit them in.

 

Holds up his hand decisively and their heads swivel to look at him.

 

“Gentlemen, I believe I have an arrangement that will be agreeable for us all.”  

 

* * *

 

 

The doctor gives them the pamphlets and explains the procedure. Memory removal. They will forget each other, forget themselves completely. Two white blank pages to be rewritten entirely.

 

They will be kept apart, isolated from each other and the world at large.

 

The only thing left to fight over is Oswald. They take out markers and divide him up. Left hand on green, right eye to me. To the victor goes the spoils and they practice division to conquer.  

Oswald raises an eyebrow in amusement as they argue over his ankle. It’s a very fetching ankle apparently. “Didn’t you two ever learn to share?”

 

They hold up his foot and stare at him blankly. “No.”  

 

“Fair enough. I was never very good at sharing either.”  He shakes off their hands and leans down. “How about this - if you don’t know about each other then I can have you both and you never have to know about it. A Riddle in the city and an Ed by the sea. How’s that sound?”  

 

They nod eagerly. An equitable exchange.  

 

Oswald holds their hands as the doctor straps them down to the boards and extracts their memories. They scream and he shushes them softly. Beginnings are never easy.  

 

They fall into a deep sleep and he has them moved to their separate locations. He wishes he could love the same man in the same room in the same city. But that man won’t allow him to do so. So in the interest of keeping the peace, he lets him remain at war with himself.  

 

The Riddler stays in Gotham and Ed is taken to an undisclosed location.  

 

He doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing, doing right by him. Then again he’s never been very good at telling right from profitable and convenient. There’s very little he can’t justify to himself in some way or another. Prays this isn’t one of those times.

 

It’s in his self interest to be as caring and loving as possible. At least as far as Ed is concerned, the rest of the world can go to hell. And he would happily lead it there if Ed asked.

 

There’s very little he would refuse him. In fact, the only thing he won’t allow him to do is harm himself. Wouldn’t be much of a request from anyone but Ed Nygma.  

 

Then again if he were anything less than who he is, Oswald would never have fallen in love with him in the first place.  

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up in white linen sheets with sea breeze spilling in. Picks his glasses off the bedside table and wraps the sheet around himself. Goes to the window and looks out over the widow’s walk. A black cliff overlooking the water. Waves crashing against the rocks. Storm above.  

 

A hand wraps around his waist and pulls him close. Gives him a warm cup. He drinks his coffee and leans back in his touch. “Where am I?”  

 

“A little north of the city. Small place I picked up a few years back. Do you like it?”  

 

He looks all around. Bookshelves as far as the eye can see, soft blues and gentle hues of white.

Everything careworn and antique, telescopes and periscopes and technicolor living.  

 

A two story cottage out by the sea.Vines growing up past the windows and worn down stones. He runs his hand over a spot on the wall, a curious shape. Holds up a hand covered in dust.  

 

“They removed the mirrors. They needed to be cleaned. I take it everything is to your liking?”  

 

He smiles in wonder. “It’s like it was made for me.”  

 

Oswald looks out the window. “Imagine that.”

 

They sit down by the fire and he picks up a book in a language he doesn’t recognize.

 

Oswald takes it out of his hand and reads from it. Harsh, thick constants and steady rhythm.

 

He leans back in his rocking chair and lets the words wash over him.  

 

“I have a question for you.”  

 

Pauses in the middle and takes off his reading glasses. “Yes, dear?”

 

“If you had forgotten something would you want to find it?”  

 

“There are a great many things I wish I could forget -anything in particular?”  

 

He looks around curiously and checks under his chair. Nowhere to be found.

 

“I seem to have misplaced my name.”  

 

He thinks he might have dropped it somewhere or put it in a box under the bed for safe keeping. He scrambles around the cottage and looks in every nook and cranny. It’s not there, he’s not here.

 

Oswald stops him just as he’s about to look for it on the roof, takes his hand and sits him down by the fire once more. Breathes deep and lies.

 

“Your name is Edward Nygma. You are a professor away on sabbatical. Truth be told, you had a bit of a breakdown a few months back and you’re taking some time to yourself. I’m here to aid you in your recovery and assist you with your studies.”  

 

“Oswald. Your name is Oswald.”  

 

“Yes, very good Ed. Do you remember how we met?”  

 

Ed’s forehead wrinkles. “There was a staircase. I told you something. You laughed at me.”  

 

“With you, never at you. I promise.”  

 

“You’re my friend.” He knows this much at least.

 

“I’m yours.”

 

Ed nods reassured. “There was a forest. I can’t see the forest anymore. Just trees.”  

 

He leads him over to the window. “There’s nothing green here I’m afraid. Just ocean.”   

 

“Will I ever see that forest again?”  

 

Closes the window and shuts the curtains. “I think it best if you stay inside for your recovery.”  

 

Ed’s not sure what exactly he’s recovering from but that’s alright.

He has plenty of time to find himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The Riddler wakes up in a seedy motel in Gotham. Mirror hanging above the bed. Neon lights flashing green through the window. Oswald sits out on the fire escape and smokes. He gets up and finds his skin slick with sweat and blood. A green suit scattered haphazardly about the room. He picks his pants off the broken chandelier. Finds his shirt wet in the bathtub, wrings out the water. Throws his jacket on over his undershirt and leaves his button up to dry. Joins him out on the fire escape and solves the mystery of his missing tie.

 

Wrapped loosely around Penguin’s neck.  

 

He knows this man. He didn’t recognize the person he saw in the mirror above the bed but he knows him. Inexplicably, undeniably drawn to his one universal constant.

 

“What are we doing here - what do you want from me?”  

 

“The same thing I always wanted - your attention. And you have plenty to spare now that you have no one else in your life. Not even yourself.” Penguin leans back and breathes a cloud into the air. “You must be wondering who that is exactly.”  

 

“I don’t need you to define me. I’ll make a name for myself.”  

 

“And what name will you choose?”  

 

“I am-” He frowns and scowls. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”  

 

Penguin laughs into the night air and takes off Ed’s tie, wraps it around his neck and pulls him close. Breathes smoke into his mouth. “Whatever you say, dear.”   

 

He coughs and chokes on it, an ache in his lungs and an emptiness within. A hollowness fills his bones. Like a bird in flight. Or a bird mid-fight. He looks at his killing companion and wonders how they ever came to be.“I’ll ask you again: What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?”  

 

Penguin caresses his cheek, black staining his fingers. “You’re clever, isn’t that what you’re always telling everyone? I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. Give me a call when you do.”

 

Leaves a hundred on the nightside table to pay for the room, a business card on top.

 

Riddler sits in bed and stares up at the mirrored ceiling. He swears he sees his reflection wink.  

 

There’s so much going on here that he doesn't understand. Not the least of which is who exactly he’s supposed to be. He resolves to break into the G.C.P.D and run his own face through a facial recognition software. Surely there must be some record of him, of who he is.  

 

It will give him a map of who he will become.

 

Perhaps more important is discovering who he’s getting into bed with. Metaphorically speaking. He had thought the relationship status readily apparent - the clothes across the room, the tie around his neck, the way he looked at him like he was truth and touchstone and certainty.  

 

Woke up in a world that didn’t make any sense, yearning for clarity. Not the charity of his touch or the kindness in his eyes. He needs answers and the best way to influence someone is to use their weakness against them. He will manipulate him as best he can. He knows precisely how.

 

He can’t rely on his guidance in this strange new reality. He needs to stand for himself lest he fall for the man and his tricks and his treacherous heart.

 

Who’s to say who either of them really are in the end.

 

* * *

 

 

Ed spends his days in quiet contemplation. Drinks green tea and does crossword puzzles. Sits out on the widow’s walk and waits for him to come home. He keeps him waiting for days on end and in the silence and the solitude it feels like years.

 

He finds ways to occupy himself. Rearranges the entire cottage one, twice, three times. Goes through every book in the house and guesses the ending by the plot summary. Turns to the last page and rips it out so that he will never know if he was right or not.  

 

Grows accustomed to living on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

 

The void is void of anything and devoid of what he fears most: his own thoughts.  

 

He hasn’t had an intrusive thought in ages, no sudden urge to stab himself or hurl himself out a window. He sits idly by and contemplates doing it anyway. Decides against it.

 

Oswald has promised to bring more jigsaw puzzles during his next visit. Something to live for.  

 

There’s no good reason not to die, there are only good reasons to keep on living. He stays alive in increments for the smallest of things. The taste of jam and butter on toast. The color green.  

 

He hasn’t seen that color in so long but he remembers what he thinks it felt like. That’s enough.  

 

Makes a list of reasons to stay here. Every brilliant thing he can think of.  

 

  1. Jam and butter on toast.  
  2. The color green.
  3. The way Oswald’s hair looks in the morning, with a pillow crease on his cheek.  



 

The list expands and grows. Takes over the entire house. Tucked inside cookie jars and under the sheets. He leaves notes for himself everywhere he can think of. He doesn’t know why he wants to die so very, very much. All he knows is the hole in his chest expanding and stuffed with notes. Paper is an inadequate substitute for a soul. Still, it’s the best he can manage.

 

The house once welcoming and warm presses down on him. The walls swallow him up and the place floods with paper.

 

Oswald has given him strict instructions not to leave the house for his own protection.  

 

He does it anyway.  

 

Sits out on black sand and watches the waves. A cold hand on his shoulder. He looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun. The man himself more blinding than anything else.  

 

They sit and Ed pulls a paper ball out of his pocket along with a pen. Brilliance abounds all around him and he is only starting to see it. Oswald hands him back a puzzle book and spreads the list out on Ed’s back. Uncaps the pen with his teeth and gets to work.  

 

They go back home and the walls are empty, clean. Oswald shows him the lists written on napkins and scratch paper and linen. Every single surface Ed could think of. Oswald extends on the list and it is organized now. A straightforward line from anagrams to zoology.  

 

They think of every happy thing that ever gave them joy amid misery.

 

Oswald thinks of mothers and raincoats and a small apartment covered in lace and flowers. Ed thinks of that feeling you get when you know you’re right and everyone is forced to acknowledge it.

The satisfaction of a task complete. Breaking and rebuilding anew.

 

They think mostly of Gotham. Think of each other more than that.  

 

The list grows and grows with every passing day. Oswald wakes up from a nap in the rocking chair to find every visible inch of his skin covered in notes. He wishes he could feel ink everywhere. Wanting him is etched so deeply and intrinsically into his very being.

 

Oswald’s lists are nothing more than a hundred variations on his name. Ed’s lists are a frantic, final grasp at something resembling a person. He tries to steer him towards good, simple things but nothing is ever easy with him. How could it be?

 

They are not easy people to live with, not easy people to love. None of the four of them are all together one person entire. 

 

Not a single whole human even if you tossed them all together.  

 

That’s alright, they’re above humanity. Transcendent.

 

Still looking at Ed now in his current state, Oswald wishes he were a little more human. Then he would know what to do with him. If he were an ordinary man with an ordinary heart he could have an extraordinary person. Instead, all he’s left with is snippets of a life half lived.  

 

One in the city, one in the country - he builds a house divided.  

The foundations will fall out from under him any day now.  

 

* * *

 

 

The Penguin has stolen his life out from under him. Taken his identity, his essence, his very name from him. He scours the G.C.P.D logs and finds himself as an employee, an enemy and an enigma all in one. There’s not enough information not nearly enough to reconstruct a life from.  

 

He runs a deeper scan, a background check. A dead man named Edward Nashton.An even deader man who was his father. A life before Gotham and games and talking too fast to be heard. The longer he speaks the less they listen so he never stops talking and hides somewhere behind and inside of his sentences. The riddles always begin and end with this: Look at me. Someone please look at me and see what they have done. Tell me I’m real and tell me it’s over.  

 

No one ever bothers to look past the words for the subtext where he lives.

 

The Riddler thrives in exposition and superstition. Edward Nashton died so many years ago.

Edward Nygma: the compromise between a dead man and his ghost.  

Now he doesn’t even have his shade left. His memories taken from him presumably by Penguin although to what end remains unknown. There is still so much of himself in that man, so much to discover. He could simply extract the information out of him by force or tease him till he turns.  

 

Possibilities, possibilities.

 

He arranges a meeting with him that night at a small mom and pop place. If mom and pop had a fondness for leather and latex. He dresses to match. The Riddler knocks on the door seven times in a circular pattern, a hole in the door slides open and eyes peer through. “Payment in kind?”  

 

“Kindness is reserved for the lonesome and the loveworn.”  

 

The door opens and he walks into Pandora’s Box. A colorful assortment of casual cruelty and consenting cuts. He strolls past strangulation and sits at the bar fight.

 

Absinthe on ice and a love on the rocks.

 

Stands out on the balcony overlooking the city.

 

The Penguin stands beside him in the shade of night and tugs on the leather straps over his jacket. Riddler fiddles with his own latex suit till it's perfectly snug and stabworthy.

A look to kill for, die for. Anything to turn his head and make him honest if only for the night.  

He leans up against the balcony and steals his cigarette. Throws it over the edge. It lands on someone’s head. Neither of them notice nor care.  

 

“Those things are going to kill you someday.”

 

Penguin glares at him and lights another. Waves the cigarette holder emphatically. “I am going to kill you one of these days if you don’t let me get through a single smoke.”  

 

“What if I gave you something better to preoccupy yourself with?”  

 

“I’m listening.”  

 

“So there’s this bank on thirty second right-”  

 

“I’m not interested in destabilizing the banks. They keep the people in line. If you have nothing better to offer, I’ll be on my way.”  

 

“I can give you Ed Nygma.”  

 

He turns suddenly.  “Excuse me.”

 

“Word on the street is you’re looking for him. I’ve got intel.”  

 

Penguin looks tired and small and suddenly so lost. “Don’t mock me.”  

 

“Then look me in the eye and tell me why you stole my life.”  

 

Penguin grabs him by the collar. “I saved your life you ungrateful -we’re not discussing this. You don’t know what you’re talking about and we are done here.”  

 

Riddler sneers and leans into his grip. “If you care so much, why don’t you help me get my life together?”  

 

Penguin lets go of him and he nearly stumbles over the edge, his cane catches his leg and pulls him back to safety. “It’s not my job to save you from yourself. Only you can do that. And frankly, I can’t spare the time for a spare. Goodnight Riddler.”  

 

He leaves him in a cloud of smoke and Riddler stares out over the city. Water on the horizon rises. The city overtaken by the arctic waves. The chill stretches into the core of him.

 

A black hole at the center of his chest that threatens to consume him whole.  

 

He leaves the club in a fit of pique and goes to the corner store across the street. If the night clerk has anything to say about his ensemble he doesn’t mention it. Little bit of latex never hurt anyone.  

 

He flips through the magazine racks and sees glossy picture after glossy picture. Interview with the former mayor. Oswald smiles up at him knowingly. He resolves to burn the entire store to the ground. Picks up lighter fluid and a match and is about to set the picture on fire when the doors burst open. Two women in fishnets walk in.

 

He hides behind the sunglasses display and admires their technique. They rob the store quickly and efficiently with a certain utilitarian charm. Though they could use a little more flair.

 

He picks up two pairs of rose colored glasses and walks up to the counter with them.

 

“On the house, ladies.”  

One of them picks up the glasses and puts them on him, steal his real glasses and puts those on instead. She smiles at him and stuffs cash in the duffle bag. “We’re taking the tall boy too.”  

 

“Q, you can’t just pick up every stray that catches your fancy.”  

 

“But he’s nice and I like him so there.”  

 

Her partner rolls her eyes. “Fine but you look after him.”  

 

They drag him out of the store and shove him into the trunk of their getaway vehicle.

 

Light the store on fire as they leave. Riddler smiles as his head is pushed down into the trunk.

 

Watches the place disintegrate, a single magazine cover torn off and tucked into his pocket.

 

Kindred spirits can make a killing in this town.

 

* * *

 

Ed comes back to his senses with blood on his hands, he doesn’t know where it came from or where. The body in the kitchen seems like a fairly good indication. He doesn’t recognize this man, has never seen him before in his life. Burn marks cover his entire body.  

 

He carves him up with a butcher knife and tosses him down the sink. Red swirls down the drain.

Gets into the shower and scrubs until his skin is raw. His hands unclean no matter what he does.  

 

Cries and curls up in a ball. Sits in a pool of red water. A knock at the door. A second. A third.  

Oswald opens the bathroom door and red steam comes out. Sighs. It’s going to be one of those days. Riddler’s kills pile up on the doorstep and Ed doesn’t know what to do with himself.  

 

He gives him something for the pain and for the memories. Makes him forget the man he is and the men he has killed. Ed loses whole chunks of time to his other self. The Riddler remains in the city but the blood flows here. Ed stained and strained. The poor thing has no idea what his other half is doing and thinks it’s his fault.

 

Luckily Oswald is there to pick up the puzzle pieces. He brings in a robe and hangs it silently on the towel rack. Draws a question mark on the steam of the shower door. Ed draws back the number twenty five. Meets him downstairs in less than half an hour.

 

Curled up on the couch together, pulls Ed into his lap. Ed clings to him for support and structure. He doesn’t know what is happening to him, what he has become. All he knows is this: Oswald will fix it.

 

Oswald will set him right. He always does.  

 

Holds him tight and reassures him the storm will pass. Lies of course. It hovers on the edge of them, getting closer. Any day now he will discover who he truly is. He keeps it at bay for as long as he can. Appeases him with puzzles and board games.

 

Throws riddles at the problem and hopes it goes away.

 

It does not.

 

There’s only one thing for it: accelerate the healing process. Bring them back together as soon as possible. He doesn’t know if they can reconcile if the reintegration will be painless or punishing.  

 

He just knows they can’t go on like this much longer.  

 

There comes a time in all our lives when we must learn to live with ourselves.

 

* * *

 

 

The bird calls and asks him to come over for a killing. The Riddler accepts his gracious invitation. Meet in that motel by the waterfront and drown a man in his own blood.

 

They cut and sever and sink their teeth in. Tear the evidence to shreds. Riddler offers to put his body through a paper shredder, Penguin says he prefers to do it by hand. Grind the bones into dust and do lines all through the night. In the aftermath of their atrocity they collapse against each other on the floor, Riddler laughing and Penguin breathing harshly.

 

They stand out on the fire escape to catch their breath and take in that toxic city air. He pulls out his cigarette case and enjoys the afterglow. Riddler removes a lighter from his pocket and lits his cigarette for him. They trade the cigarette back and forth.

 

Blood on their names and in their intent.

 

Now’s the time to catch him: when his guard is low and he’s sadistically satisfied. Riddler opens his mouth to interrogate him, to needle the truth out of him.

 

“Say it.”  

 

He stretches, lazy and hazy and content. “Hmmm, what was that?”

 

“Say my name.”  

 

Penguin smirks and drags him down by the lapel. Breathes smoke into his mouth. “Anything for you...Riddler.”  

 

The Riddler unravels. Falls apart in his hands. He leans forward and tastes his own name in his mouth, devours the sound. Penguin reaches up and drags him down by the hair. The cigarette falls from his hand into the alley below. Riddler pushes him up against the bars of the fire escape and chases the feeling of being known, being seen and understood.  

 

It’s heady and healing and half way through a kiss, Penguin turns the other cheek. Panting.  

 

“I can’t - we, we shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not yourself.”  

 

“I think you’ll find I’m more myself than ever. Without all those pesky inhibitions and interruptions.” He can’t quite recall what was stopping them before but he knows something stood in their way. Whatever it was isn’t worth remembering.

 

Penguin stands up and walks back into the room, refusing to touch anything in this place.  

 

He grabs his arm and pulls him in. “What’s to stop us, who’s to know?”  

 

“I would know. And there’s something else.”  

 

Riddler bites into his neck. Pressed up against his front and struggling to remember why he thought this was a bad idea. “Give me one good reason not to throw you to the bed an-”

 

“I’m in love with someone else.”  

 

Riddler bares his teeth. “Who?”  

 

_who touched you if not me, who do i have to kill_

 

He moves as far away from him as he can. “It doesn’t matter who. What matters is can our partnership withstand me not standing you - it can not. So if you want this to continue you’ll have to put your feelings aside.”  

 

Riddler swallows down bile and forces a smile. He will find this man and he will kill him. Simple as that. “Of course. This is a business arrangement nothing more.”

 

He prefers to sign his deals with a kiss in triplicate. He settles for a handshake.

 

Penguin leaves a paper trail as he goes. A small paper ball falls out of his coat pocket.  

 

He picks it up and unscrunches it.  

 

A list of things worth living for. Familiar handwriting. Clearly, Oswald didn’t write the list or it wouldn’t contain so many references to himself. He’s narcissistic but not quite that self obsessed.

 

Riddler resists the urge to tear the paper in two.

 

A love note from the mystery man.  

He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls the girls.

 

“Ladies, can I interest you in a heist?”

 

* * *

 

 

The Penguin is a creature of habit and comfort, preferring to keep his most valuable possessions close at hand. The fact that he is keeping this suitor shacked up speaks to either a deeper protective instinct or a growing detachment. Riddler hopes it's the former. In any case, displacing the lover will destabilize him long enough for Riddler to swoop in and steal the prize.  

 

Once Penguin is vulnerable and alone, he can take advantage of his grief and manipulate him to his own ends. Any information on this man will be kept in the vault beneath the lounge.  

 

Riddler fixes his suit in front of the mirror while Query and Echo pester him on the particulars.

 

“So you love-hate-love him and you’ll do anything for his attention including getting yourself killed for him?” Query shakes her head at the fragility and stupidity of men. Even The Riddler is not immune. _Especially_ The Riddler. The smarter they are, the harder they fall.

 

Echo steals his hat. “I think it sounds real romantic, honey. Follow your bliss into a bullet.”  

Riddler scowls and snatches his hat back. “I don’t love him, I need him that’s all. I feel an ache in my chest without him and a strong desire to -”  

 

They snicker and make obscene hand gestures. He pulls his gloves on and flips them off in the process. “Are we done prattling like fools or shall we get to work?”  

 

Query looks at her partner. Are they actually going to follow this madman into misery?

 

Echo nods excitedly and pulls out her handguns. Query sighs and takes out her knife. Very well.

 

The Iceberg Lounge is an impenetrable fortress unless your name happens to be Ed Nygma. That’s not his name but he’s a reasonable enough facsimile for the retinal scans.

 

He gets in on the underground level and the girls split off down the tunnels. Off to the top to topple an empire. Controlled chaos that will be over soon. They kiss his cheeks before they go.

 

“Good luck.”  

“Don’t fuck it up.”  

 

Reassuring as ever. He goes down deeper into the cavern beneath the club.The silver vault takes up over half the wall. He pours liquid nitrogen into it and snaps the locks. Presses his ear against it and turns the combinations. The door swings open and the floor is covered in blue lasers. He puts his hat on the floor and it refracts the lights. He steps in and the door swings shut. Penguin smiles at him from the other side and waves cheerfully. Riddler bangs his fists against the door and Penguin laughs in his face. Presses his hand against the glass window and lovingly extends the middle finger. The vault fills up with water and Riddler slowly drowns.

 

The water takes him to a distant shore and he washes up with the waves. Ed picks him up over his shoulder and carries him home. Lays him down in the bed by the window and studies his own face. Not a bad looking face all things considered. Though certainly not worth all this trouble.  

 

The face that launched a thousand strangulations is altogether uninspiring in his opinion. Although he’s not exactly an unbiased observer. He takes rope from the boat dock and ties him to the headboard securely. Suddenly he understands where all the blood on his hands comes from and the bruises Oswald comes home with sometimes. It was him all along.  

 

He tugs the ropes more tightly until it cuts into his wrists. The Riddler opens his eyes and pulls at his bonds. Laughs and looks down on him. “Eddie, who knew you had it in you? Kinky, love it.”  

 

Ed slaps him hard across the face and feels the phantom sensation against his skin.

 

Riddler smiles and spits out blood. “There I am. I was wondering where you had gone.”  

 

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you, bodysnatcher. Murderer.”

 

“Oh but we’re so much more than that, aren’t we? The two of us, a thousand variations on one man. Don’t you think it’s time you engaged in a little self compassion?”  

 

Ed takes his legs and ties those up as well. “I have no sympathy for you whatsoever.”  

 

“Oswald does. Oswald has a whole lot more than sympathy I’d wager.”  

 

Ed freezes. Riddler seizes the opportunity. “Didn’t you wonder why he left you all alone in this little love nest? Isolated and ignored. You're the afterthought. The addendum. Affair.”

  
“Shut your lying mouth. Although is that all your mouth is good for - tell me Riddler: how did he kiss you? Like he wants to kiss me?” Ed smiles smug and secure. “He used you like a cheap toy. For practice, for patience. So he’d know what to do with me when the time came.”  

 

Riddler struggles against the ropes and glares. “I saw him first, you wouldn’t have looked twice at him if it weren’t for me. Why couldn’t you keep your hands off him and let me have him?”  

 

Ed pats his cheek cold and condescending. “Get over yourself.” Goes to the kitchen and pulls a butcher knife out of the drawer. “Any parting words before I kill us both?”  

 

“If you kill me now, you’ll die knowing you never had him and I did.” Riddler smiles and lies back serenely, closing his eyes. “Hmmm can you picture it? Oh, I’m sure you have, many tim-”  

 

Ed plunges the knife into the rope around his wrists and yanks them off.

 

“Fine. Let’s see who he prefers.”  

 

Riddler stretches up and sighs. Pulls an imaginary horn.

 

“Last train to Gotham departing! Next stop: your complete and utter humiliation.”  

 

Ed rolls his eyes and heads upstairs for his luggage. Packs quick and economic. At the top of the bag, a carefully made list. Every brilliant thing, every reason to keep on being.

 

Reason Number 547: Live To Prove Him Wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

They stroll into the Iceberg Lounge after hours, in their identical green suits. Ed’s reasoning being that if they equalize themselves as much as possible it will be a fair decision. Riddler is not particularly concerned with fairness and just wants to say he wore it better.  Kicks down the back office door. “Oswald! It’s me, the love of your damn life! Also, Ed is here.”

 

Ed shoves him out of the door frame and looks in. “He’s not there.”  

 

“Clearly or he would have thrown himself into my arms already. Let’s try the mansion.”  

 

No luck there. City hall. Gun range. Liquor store. Diamond district. Mother’s apartment.

 

They are quickly running out of options.

 

“Where does he go when he doesn’t want us to find him?”  

 

They sigh in unison at the realization. “Let’s just get this over with.”  

 

It’s four o’clock in the morning when they knock on his door. 4:03 when they decide to break into his apartment. They stand over his bed and poke him with their canes.  

 

“Rise and shine, Detective. Early worm gets the bird.” Ed pulls him up by his sleep clothes and hits him hard. Jim blinks and rubs his jaw. Blinks again. He’s seeing double. How hard did Nygma punc-Riddler hits him. One, two, cut like a butterfly. Sting like a bitch.

 

They leer over him and lean down, eyes shining.  

 

“We’re here to see a man about a penguin - you know where he is?”  

 

Jim gets up on unsteady feet and goes into the kitchen. He’s going to need either caffeine or alcohol to deal with him-them-he. They babble and bluster and bicker. He sighs and pours himself an Irish coffee. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. “He’s not here.”  

 

They look at each other and marvel at the collective intelligence in this room which is comprised entirely of them apparently. Ed taps his fingers against the kitchen table impatiently.

 

Riddler sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Your powers of observation never cease to astound, Detective. Tell me what else is not in this room: an elephant, a Rubix cube, an officer worth his brass that’s about to get his ass-”  

 

“Oswald is missing. Help us find him.”  

 

“Last I heard, you wanted to kill him. So no.”  He sips his coffee and whiskey and wishes he lived in a different city where you didn’t wake up to the sweet sound of riddles in the morning.

 

Rubs his temples. He’s quickly developing an Ed-ache.

 

They corner him against the fridge and he thinks about his gun in the nightstand. He should have shot them both on sight and went back to sleep. Waking nightmare, this one.  

 

“We promise not to hurt him, isn’t that right Riddles?”  

 

Riddler crosses his heart earnest and wide-eyed. “Won’t lay a hand on him, honest.”

 

Jim rolls his eyes and starts to say something dismissive when he notices their shaking hands and the circles under their eyes. Unsteady and unmoored. Utterly adrift and anxious.  

 

A man lost at sea.  

 

He holds up his hands and they let him out of their grip. He sets his coffee down on the table.

“Look it’s not like I’m his schedule keeper or anything but I know he’s got some sort of deal going down sometime this week on the pier. Southside. That’s all I know.”  

 

Ed smiles and thanks him. Riddler discreetly pours a knockout drug in his coffee and tips his hat.

 

He drinks and starts to choke.

 

“Nice seeing ya, Jimbo.”  

 

Jim’s eyes flutter closed and Ed pats his hand consolingly.

 

“Sorry bout him, he’s a real pain in the neck.”  

 

They leave and Jim passes out on the kitchen floor. Wakes up twelve hours later to a green haze.

 

Pieces together what memories he has and hopes that Oswald knew what he was getting into with the trouble twins. Two Eds are not better than one.

 

* * *

 

 

They peer their heads over the wall and look out at the pier. Oswald is brokering a deal between two warring gangs. They smile in admiration and approval. That’s our man.  

 

It appears he’s in no peril on the pier and is, in fact, holding a captive audience if the gun in his hand is in any indication. They wish they would have thought to bring a camera. He looks so sturdy and steady and they just want him to stake a claim on thei-  

 

Thick hands seize them by the necks and pin them against the brick walls. “We got company.”

 

The gangs turn on them and Oswald sees his two foolish fellows making a mess of things. As usual. “Now, now everyone let's not be hasty.” He rushes over to their sides and removes the hands that bind them. “This is my associate Edward Nygma and -”  

 

Riddler smirks. “His half-brother. Edwin.” Oswald glares and admonishes him under his breath.” _You can’t be serious, this is not the time-”_

 

Ed straightens his suit and leans casually against the wall as if he wasn’t nearly suffocated less than a second ago. “Forgive our tardiness, we had business to attend to. Police brutality is so much more exciting on the other side of things, don’t you agree?”  

The criminals eye them warily. Ed smiles deceptive and delightful. Positively frightful.  

 

Riddler pulls Oswald behind them and takes out his cane. Twists the top to reveal a knife.

 

“I don’t think they take well to latecomers.” Bullets fly over their heads.

 

They drag Oswald around the corner and run, him yelling at them all the way. Trip over nets and fall down, all three tangled up in each other. They struggle to regain balance and look up.  

 

Guns surround them on every side. Oswald swears. Ed whimpers. Riddler laughs.

 

They are hung up in a net, suspended over a vat of boiling acid. Legs tangled all together, elbows poking into eyes and stomachs. Sweaty and simmering in rage. Oswald winces in pain.

 

“Don’t put your knee there.”  

 

“Where?”  

 

“THERE!”  

 

Oswald and Riddler reach for their canes instinctively. All their weapons were taken from them. Ed scrunches and shimmies and pulls a phone out of his back pocket. They move as one ill-coordinated mass unit. He scrambles for the phone and Oswald’s head bangs into his hand. The phone falls into the acid and melts beneath them.

 

Riddler sneers. “Nice going, sweetheart.”

 

Oswald digs his foot into his spine. “Need I remind you, we wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you meddling riddlers - why couldn’t you let me conduct my affairs in peace?”

 

“Your business is my business, you shouldn’t keep it from me. Besides, you could have gotten yourself killed and I couldn’t allow that.”  

 

“I hate to interrupt,” Ed actually didn’t hate it all.“ but gentlemen perhaps we could table this discussion for a more opportune time.”  

 

Oswald nods. “Quite right, Edward. Now can someone reach into my hair, I’ve got about a half a dozen knife-pins in there. Riddler, if you could move the net forty degrees to the right.”  

 

They swing the net as Oswald rips off the fabric and attaches it the pins. The net swings and he throws the hairpin/fabric like a grappling hook and snags it on the side of metal bars.  

 

They pull themselves up on to the platform and tumble together in a pile on the metal.

Oswald extracts himself from the web of them and stands over them. Smiles fondly.  

 

He never needed them to save him, if anything they brought him more trouble by far.  

Looks at him and knows he’s the kind of trouble you want to take home.  

 

He picks them up off the floor and wraps his arms around their shoulders.

 

“Let’s get you home, alright? We’ve had a long day.”

 

They start to walk away and Oswald collapses between them straightens up as best he can.  

 

Riddler picks him up and Ed examines him. His leg bleeding out fast, an ugly wound on his skin.

 

“Why didn’t you say something?”  

 

Oswald grits his teeth and shrugs over their touch. “Didn’t want to worry you, I’ve had worse.”  

They pick him up and carry him between them back to the car. Lay him down in the backseat and drive back to the mansion. Riddler carries him onto the couch by the fire and Ed puts his leg in his lap. “I’m going to need the medical supply kit under the stairs, sterile bandages and -”  

 

Riddler hands it to him without a word, anticipating his thoughts and needs. Ed pulls the bullet out of from behind his knee and Oswald holds back a cry of pain. Riddler takes his hand while Ed operates. They pour on the rubbing alcohol and bandage him up tight. He glares at them both.  

 

“Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired.”  

 

Ed turns him over and places a small kiss on top of the bandages right over the injury. Riddler holds up the bullet and resolves to make use of it a later time. Some sort of decoration perhaps.

 

Ever so slowly, they help him up the landing and onto the stairs. He tries to make it up himself but they insist. “Let me take the burden, I can take it.” He nods and they pull his arms about their shoulders and lift. Entirely in their hands and at their disposal. They could let him down so easy.

 

They never do.  

 

Make their way to his bed and softly lower him into the sheets, pull up the covers.  

 

Ed pushes back his hair and kisses his forehead. Riddler turns out the light.

 

Oswald reaches for their hands and pulls them down into the bed on either side of him.

 

They look at each other in the dark and nod in silent agreement.

 

A temporary truce while he heals.

 

Ed curls up around Oswald’s right side and stretches protectively over his body.

 

The Riddler watches on. A knife in hand. They sleep and he looks after them.

 

Peace with himself is a novel concept. It won’t last long but he’s willing to try.

 

For Oswald’s sake.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up in the arms of the men he loves. The three of them lost in each other and endlessly intertwined. Their heads resting above his, they breathe in his ears. He shivers and they pull him closer. He lets go of his uncertainty and allows himself to be loved if only for a moment.

 

Lies back and turns his head to watch Ed sleep. He’s so much simpler like this, all the complexities and cruelties stripped bare. His glasses are still on, he must have forgotten to take them off last night. He takes them off as carefully as he can and stretches over to put them on the bedside table. Turns back around to sleep and catches the Riddler watching him. He smiles.  

 

“I see the way you look at him, you know. Like he’s your world entire.”  

 

Oswald smooths Riddler’s hair back reassuringly, hands lingering.

 

“My world split in two, actually.”

 

Riddler glares. “Don’t condescend. I know I’m just enigma’s imitation. He’s who you want.”

 

He sighs and presses their foreheads together. “He is beautiful, clever, kind and one of a kind. You are brilliant, brutal, hilarious, and an absolute bastard. Together you are the ideal man.”  

 

Riddler looks up at him, self-consciousness incarnate. “You’ll have me then, have us?”  

 

“I love you. I love _all_ of you. There’s nothing either of you could ever do to change that.”

 

Riddler shakes off self loathing and slips into smugness. Pulls him close and rests his chin on his head, turns them around to look at Ed. “What do you want to do to him, allow me to arrange it.”  

 

Oswald holds onto patience. “Not until you’re back to yourself. I don’t want to take advantag-”  

 

Ed opens his eyes, clearly listening in the entire time. He pulls Oswald away from himself and into his arms. “We promise you’re not doing anything we don’t want. We’d tell you if you were.”  

 

Riddler leans in and pushes back his collar, kisses his neck. “We love you. Let us show you.”  

 

Ed pulls him in for a kiss and Oswald falls under their thrall. Kisses him longing and lonesome and loving as he has never loved anything. Hesitant at first, still so unsure of his welcome. Riddler tugs at his hair and breaks the kiss, steals one for himself. Passion and pain, one and the same. He bites into his mouth and nearly draws blood. Ed takes him by the neck and takes him back. Kisses all over his face, tender and timid and trusting. Oswald nearly destroyed and they’ve only just begun. Finally, their lips meet once more and they slip into an intimacy unparalleled and unconditional. Surrender is a victory in of itself.

 

Ed’s hands caress his cheeks and Riddler’s lips all up and down his arm as he kisses his way up his shoulders till he reaches his neck. Bites down and breaks the skin. Oswald cries out in pain and Ed hushes him with a gentleness in his kiss that belies the harshness of his teeth.  

 

Twisted teeth and terrible tenderness. Riddler’s clever mouth put to better use as Ed’s hands reach for the buttons of his shirt. Oswald doesn’t want to stop kissing him not even for that and holds his wrists down against the pillows. Presses his advantage and presses their hips together.

 

Ed’s eyes go wide and he gasps brightness into his mouth. They breathe barely surviving the onslaught and Riddler kisses the palm of his hand. Sucks his fingers into his mouth.

 

Oswald shutters and shatters. Riddler takes his hand and leads it low, low, low. Hands pull on cotton pants and nimble fingers on buttons. Riddler takes his hand in his own as his mouth descends. Places Oswald’s hand on his own head. Pulls back and smirks.

 

“Don’t stop on my account. You two have fun.”  

 

Oswald surges and kisses Ed, pulling their bodies flush as Riddler takes what is his.All that brilliance, that drive, and devotion focused on a singular act. Obsessive and a perfectionist he sees to a task until he is satisfied. Oswald is nearing an exclamation when he stops suddenly. Looks up and winks at them. “Ed, pay attention. There will be an oral exam.”

 

Riddler’s hands and mouth and Ed’s kiss and killing is what they are doing now.

 

Love him to distraction. Love him to death.

 

Just as he thinks they will show mercy and put him out of his misery, they stop. Look at each other in mutual agreement. Riddler crawls up the bed while Ed reaches into the nightstand.

 

Pours the liquid into his hands and reaches down. Oswald pulls him closer to assist with the preparations. Riddler sucks his fingers once more and he puts them to purpose. Ed cries out and kisses him through the shockwaves. He sinks down and tries to hold back the river.  

 

A pillow placed under his bad leg to compensate for the injury. A riddler sits on the other side of the bed idly playing, watching and wanting. “You’re doing that all wrong, you know.”  

 

They ignore him and he sighs in frustration. If you want something done right, do it yourself.

 

He kneels beside them, his hand on Ed’s back guiding the motions. Whispers in his ear.

 

Instructions, insinuations, provocations. More, more, more. Consume and devour.  

 

_he’s right there for the taking make him ours make him cry make him scream_

 

Capture. Conquer. Control.  

 

Ed kisses Oswald desperate to block out the sound of himself. He won’t do it, won’t hurt him. Hands shaking and eyes tearful. Oswald kisses the salt water off his skin and runs a reassuring hand down his spine. Ed rests his head under his and they push and pull. Ebb and flow.

 

“Stop holding back.” Oswald ’s hands over his cheek and he leans into the touch.  “I want you. I want you in your entirety. Please don’t deny me this, not now, not here.”  

 

Ed nods reluctantly. “Alright. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”  

 

Riddler triumphant. He takes Ed’s chin in his hands and tips it up. Stares into his eyes and smiles. He could never understand what anyone saw in him. He’s beginning to see.

 

_we look and share a smile_

_i wink, you do the same_

_knowing all the while_

_i’m yours in all but name_

 

_what am i?_

 

Ed smiles at himself for the first time in many years. “Reflection.” He leans up and kisses himself, chaste and content.They feel the empty space inside their chests close up as they return to each other in a flash of light. Ed’s hands flutter down his own body as he checks his heart. All in one piece. All together at last. All these years searching for answers. Searching for this.  

 

Oswald stares up at him in wonder. He thought he knew the man but he has never seen him so much himself, so very happy and whole. The two men he loved trapped together in one body. Eternally at war with himself. He kisses him and sets them free. The Riddler reborn.

 

Ed presses him down further into the bed, mischief and malice in his eyes. Oswald captures his lips and bites down hard till he bleeds. They laugh into each other’s mouths and set about their own destruction. What a delightful past time decimation is.

 

Gone is the fear and the hesitation. They are left with only this breathless, beautiful brutality. They tear into each other’s skin and scream. Their mouths ache and sweat drips bloody.  

 

Sheets soaked and hearts raw. Ed pulls at his hair and licks a line up his jaw. Oswald punctuates his pleasure with a particularly pointed thrust. Another. Another. Once more for emphasis.  

Ed rolls them over. Back on top. Topple an empire. An endless, eager game of kingship. They reach their crowning. Ed’s head thrown back with Oswald’s hand around his neck.

 

They catch their breath and hold it down to the ground. Twist it beneath their feet.

 

The aftershocks shake them and they hold on tight. Pictures fall off the walls and the bed frame quakes. Dust and plaster torn from the ceiling. A chandelier falls to the center of the bed and Oswald pulls him back just in time to avoid being crushed under the weight of it.

 

A dangerous endeavor they are embarking on. Wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

Together they rebuild from the ashes in their wake. Wake in the morning and tear it down. Constantly, constantly changing and shaping each other into something new and unexpected. They grow together, their vines outstretched and undernourished. They reach for the only sustenance they can find, a water that runs through them both. Drink deep and start anew.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: happygoloony


End file.
